we dance for the devil tonight
by mirrorOfsin
Summary: The Hampton Court Club is famous for its entertainment, the showgirls are like no other with their bewitching dances that leave the guests longing for more. But behind the lights and the smiles, hearts are broken and hands become bloody as their owner soon becomes the most infamous thing about the place. Modern!AU: showgirls. All six wives.


For Chloe as part of our collab. Modern!AU - showgirls. Warnings: character death

**we dance for the devil tonight**

**i.**

He watched her from the shadowy corner of his father's club, Hampton Court. The tables and chairs were still stacked from the previous night and he knew the cleaners would so be coming in. No one was supposed to be here but he often didn't do as he was told. She was on the central stage, humming lightly under her breath and moving gracefully into well learnt steps of a dance from her homeland. She was illuminated even in the dim lights, her hair turning to a finer copper so it looked like fire and she was, in that moment, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

He was ten years old.

Maybe he made a noise – a small gasp – or perhaps she sensed him watching for she slowly halted mid-step and frowned, peering out until she found him. Her face relaxed and an easy smile formed on her lips. She waved him forward and he was about to go to her when his father and brother came into the room. Her smile disappeared for a moment until a more demure one took its place. He saw his brother climb up awkwardly onto the stage, his hand shaking as he touched her arm gently as he leaned in to murmur something by her ear. She flicked him a look from beneath her lashes before nodding, speaking to him Spanish. They promptly left the stage to the right and she didn't glance back.

His father moved towards him, his jaw set and eyes sharp. "She's not for you."

He made no sound but his thoughts shouted loudly in his head.

_She was_.

-/-

He stood at the side of the club, leaning against one marble column and lit up a cigarette. The lights around were brighter, the place warmer and more inviting than when his father had owned the place. Gold, white and reds made the breath catch and that was even before the girls came out to perform. Night after night, the tables would be full, champagne would be poured and always the girls danced them into a trance of delight.

He tucked the gold lighter back into his suit pocket, glancing down and stared as his wedding ring caught the light. He was thirty-two years old. The familiar step of heels did not make him turn around though he did smile a little when an arm wrapped around him and a face pressed against his shoulder. He twisted his head to press his lips to her head and she moved to stand before him.

"You missed Mary's recital," she reprimanded lightly and he sighed.

"I know, and I'll make it up to her. It's been busy."

"She was wonderful," Katherine smiled fondly not noticing his small frown as he leaned to stub the cigarette out on an ash tray. "She shows great promise."

He looked at her, taking in the small lines that bracketed her eyes and mouth. He thought of when he had seen her up there on the stage and how beguiling she had been. Years collapsed and jarred, memories coursed and crashed and mingled within him so, for a moment, he could not tell past from present. Had it really been seventeen years?

She had not danced for God knows how long and perhaps that was his fault.

"Come," she said and he thought how her voice had managed to retain that Spanish accent despite of how long she had been here. He had tried to learn for her but that was one more fault. From the darkest part of his mind, a voice whispered to him; _Arthur would have tried harder_.

He shivered and she reached out to touch his hand. He saw the wedding ring on her finger and his throat constricted.

"I'm going to watch these auditions – the last girls were terrible," he managed to choke out and removed his hand from her grasp.

Her eyes flash with hurt and she recoiled a little.

"I will see you later," he promised leaning in to kiss her, to sooth the sting. But she heard the lie anyway.

**ii.**

He ranked his fingers through long, dark hair, fisting his hand at the end and tugged to expose the length of her neck to him. She sighed, leaning in towards him as his lips trailed up the sensitive skin then over her lips. They stood in a back corridor, pressed up against the wall as the music started for the show. His hand slipped from her thigh up to the short beaded skirt when she stopped him, pulling the hand away and pushed against his chest with the other.

"No," she breathed licking her lips. "No. Not like this."

He made a move but her hand on his chest curled, her nails sinking into him despite the shirt he wore and he moved away.

"I'm getting the divorce," he told her in a hushed, harsh tone. "What more do you want from me?"

"To be your wife," she hissed then reached up to stroke his face gently. "I will not allow myself to be your _whore_. Only until you are a free man than can I ever be with you."

"But-"

"Anne!" a voice called out in a loud whisper and they broke apart suddenly. "Anne! It's your turn soon!"

"Will you watch?" she asked with a smile that made his heart clench.

"Always," he whispered and leaned in to kiss her again but she had already slipped out of his grasp. He heard her light laugh as she briskly ran to the stage door. When he went to see her, he knew she danced _for_ him but her eyes never glanced over yet her smile was teasing, only one he could understand.

-/-

She tore into the study, slamming the door shut and her heels clicked so sharply on the polished wooden floor he thought they would snap. Her hair was half-falling out of the jade slides and she shook before him. She brushed away an angry tear that fell, she _refused_ to cry, and he stood up carefully, face impassive.

"_Jane_?" She choked out. "She's the one you have picked to replace me on stage? When I told you how I felt!"

She looked so devastated, so furious, breath-taking even like this but his heart was hardening in his chest. Little voices had whispered to him, their dark words planted darker thoughts within him and now, he imagined her, like this, but beneath another lover. His fists tightened, bordering on painful.

When he didn't answer, she shouted something but he couldn't hear her words. There was a burning in his chest, he was seething, and she only saw it when it was too late. He grabbed her wrists when she tried to warn him off, gripped so hard that the fragile bones were to break if he didn't stop. She screamed at him to stop, she struggled, but he held on.

"Haven't you been fucking other men?"

She gasped and then managed to wrench herself free but stumbled, almost losing balance. Then she laughed. She laughed till two tears fell from her eyes and she walked towards his desk, to get away from him.

"Who has been telling you this? Charles? Cromwell? I bet it was Cromwell. _God_," she covered her eyes with her hand for a moment before regained herself. "You would believe him? I have been nothing _but_ faithful."

He stared at her and worry set inside her. She crossed over to him, taking his hand which is surprisingly cold, and pulled him to her. She changed tactics and pressed small kisses on his jaw.

"How can you believe I would ever give up on you?" She murmured, coaxing him to her and he turned to look down at her. She smiled slightly and kissed his mouth, hoping to spark a fire within him. "I _love_ you."

"I heard it was with your brother."

Her mouth parted in horrified shock and then she slapped him hard.

She trembled in the deafening silence that fell and he touched his reddening cheek gingerly. She met his gaze, swallowing and raised her chin up defiantly.

Suddenly, he grasped her head, kissing her furiously. Her hands came up to push at his chest but the small of her back hit the desk and she stiffened. One hand fell down and scrambled around till she felt the silver letter knife. He broke off his kiss and looked almost amused to see her grasping the weapon in her hand and bring it up between them.

"Did you think to stab me with that?"

"No," she whispered hoarsely and she looked ashamed. "No, no," she dropped it. "I just-"

"Hush," he said, and then gently pressed his lips to hers. She was terrified but could do nothing but stand there. She didn't even feel the blade swipe across her neck, her eyes widened a little before her breath caught and her body slumped. He gathered her and eased her slowly onto the finely crafted Ottoman rug where he watched her bleed out. He smoothed his fingers through her hair, matted now with blood and, unknown to him, a few tears trickled down his cheek and onto hers.

He slowly stood eventually and opened the door of the study, calling for one of the guards he had to call for an ambulance. There had been an accident.

**iii.**

He laughed, twirling around his finger a lock of golden hair. His other lay gently over her stomach, the skin so warm and soft, and beneath he felt a small kick. She covered his hand with hers as he smiled at her. A son, he thought, dismissing the faces of his two daughters in his mind.

He was forty-six and had waited for this moment for so long…

"And how's mummy doing?" the nurse asked with a smile as she came back inside the room and handed him the latest scan. His let out a breath and Jane looked at him fondly.

"Well," she replied with a little sigh. "Just a little tired."

"No doubt, just make sure to relax and not to overwork yourself."

"I can assure you she isn't," he commented, still staring at the image.

"Ahh, got your husband doing all the work," the nurse grinned and Jane just smiled. "Have you thought about names?"

They glanced at each other and Jane bit her lip lightly, something she did when she was unsure. "I thought of Edward…"

"A fine name," the nurse commented offhand.

"Yes," Henry responded. "A fine name."

-/-

He brooded in his office, the photograph of her turned down on the desk. He had received a dozen of texts but he had ignored them all except from the nanny. He read her texts, took her calls and for a while she's the only one he saw. His little boy, his little prince, isn't as robust as he had hoped and the doctors came almost every other day just to check.

He rubbed the wedding band on his finger before he slid it off. It sat, cold and shiny on the dark mahogany and he remembered her bright smile, her laugh, when she placed it upon him. He doesn't want another there to take that place, that special place he holds only for her.

A knock came at the door and Charles walked in. It was time. He stood up, smoothing his hands over his tailored black suit and stepped out from behind the desk, leaving the ring. It was the re-opening night and the customers – and the girls – want to see him.

She would have understood, he thought as he strolled out onto the stage, a small applause welcoming him. She would have told him that life moves on, and so must he.

**iv.**

She wasn't beguiling, sensuous or girl-next-door pretty. At least not in the way the others have been. She was entirely different and it seemed she had very little interest in _him_. She shuffled the papers on the table before stuffing them into black binders. She tucked a strand of dark blonde hair behind her ear and only then realised he was watching her. She offered him a tight smile before she bid him a good evening, her voice pleasing with its German-lit.

"Want a drink?"

She threw him a look, contemplated the proposition, then agreed. She might be the new accountant but that didn't mean they couldn't be friendly, she joked lightly and he smiled.

They were only supposed to have one drink but that turned in a series of drinks which only led to him, in the darkened back of his car as his chauffer drove her home, to kiss her. Even drunk, she still seemed surprised but let him kiss her once more. He helped her into her home, respectable, tasteful and reaping some of the salary she got. He helped her to bed and she thanked him before passing out. He left her, covering her over before he got back to his club. He had had fun despite himself and she seemed pleased – perhaps this was going to be a good partnership after all.

-/-

It had been a mistake, they both stated. They had married for all the wrong reasons, mixing brief moments of fun for, perhaps, love? They had been rash and foolish, not thinking it through – despite her cautious ways – she had been swept up by him and barely thought when she accepted him as her husband.

They sat opposite one another as the divorce papers were handed over for them both to sign. They both came away having lost nothing in the process except a failed attempt at a marriage. She said she would still like work for him however, managing some of the accounts and he agreed. She had been thorough in her work and dedicated to salvaging some of the mismanagement the club had gone through. Just because it ended in divorce, it didn't mean they still can't be friends? She said and he tried to smile. In all honesty, he could do with some better friends like her.

**v.**

The Hampton Court Club became busier than usual when she performed on Thursday and Saturday nights. The kittenish angel that cooed and teased and had them all half-in love with her. She had come begging for a job and they had not regretted taking her on. A natural on the stage, she was soon given her own shows where the other girls didn't have to suffer being eclipsed by her. Roses were sent to her room, jewels and furs in piles but she chose to only wear the gifts he had given.

He was forty-nine and madly taken with this girl of seventeen.

Charles told him it was stupid, she was too young and what could he possibly hope to gain? He paid him no attention, he didn't care, he always got want he wanted.

She was on the central stage, two lights upon her as she sung her little song about being a poor maid in need of a knight. She danced around, all girlish innocence that heated the blood, and sent him a smile. She had just turned eighteen and on her finger, the light caught the diamond ring and it shone like a second sun.

Mine, he thought as he glanced at the faces of the men around that adored her with her eyes. _Mine_.

-/-

The club was shut for a while, the place awash with rumours and suspicion. Poor girl, people murmured, poor _child_. How dreadful for one so young! It had been a most awful shock for the housekeeper to find her, lying there at the foot of the stairs, her neck broken and twisted at a horrible angle. It was a horrific accident… wasn't it? There was confusion and uncertainty in the voices of the people around. More than a few blamed him, maliciously whispering that he had found her with another man. Who could blame her? She deserved to have a good life, not chained down by him. But where was this lover? The news reported that a body had been found in the Thames but was unidentifiable right now. Could that be him? No one was sure.

He folded down the paper, ignoring her picture that smiled up from the page. An accident, he assured himself. A terrible accident.

**vi.**

He coughed violently, gasping for water that she brought to him quickly. He had never felt so weak, so useless, and there she sat, patient and caring. Tied down to him. He was fifty-five and he was dying. He knew that with every rattling breath he took, with every shut of his eyes he thought that it might be his last. His wife was encouraging, telling him he had still so many years left but he knew it would be a welcomed relief to her. To everyone.

New girls were practicing their steps, moving slowly as the stage director called out the beats. In a moment, he thought he saw a flash of copper hair, that flame that first drew him. His eyes moved to another and her red necklace shone around her throat with a single jewel falling like a drop of blood. He shifted in his seat and two girls came to the front, one with a sweet, round face and the other half-hidden in the shadow as the lights moved. There were giggles and a distant echo of one that chilled him.

He turned to Catherine wildly and she leaned forward to press the back of her hand against his forehead. He was sweating, his suit too tight and the girls… the girls were moving too fast; fire, blood, shadow and that laugh.

He stumbled to his feet and she grasped his arm, so strong, so _real_. The others looked on as she helped him back to his room but he didn't allow her to stay and so she walked back, picking up the list of names, ticking a few off.

-/-

She thanked everyone that had come. There had been a crowd of members, clients, showgirls and old friends. Red and white roses were tossed onto his grave, his children cried quietly and she gathered them to her. The coldness in the air was sweeping in and they didn't stay too long so that the ground could be covered. The will would not be read until the following week so she decided to stay on and run the place until the new owner would come and start it all over again.


End file.
